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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 






Shelf. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




OKIGINJIIi POEMS. 

Sentiniental, Patriotic, 
Humorous and Autobiographic, 



E. H. S. HOLDEM, M.D., 

Holbrook, Long Island. 



COPYRIGHTED 1886. 






'A youth, (that's borrowed, as you all may know;^si,®^ Wasm:nS"^ 

If he means me, 'tis seventy years ag'O), 
' To fortune and to fame unknown," 

T.his, I affirm, though borrowed, is my own, 



■PS IfZf 



NEW YORK: 

The Bedell Press 

3DAV.& 175THST- 



TO THE 

HON. WILLARD BARTLETT, 

JUDGE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE 
STATE OF NEW YORK, 

^This Volume is Dedicated. 1^ 

WITH SENTIMENTS OF DUE ESTEEM AND RESPECT. 
BY THE AUTHOR. 



Preface. 

NO two persons are precisely alike. Although no 
one is perfect, every one possesses some talent. 
We all desire happiness. The question arises, What is 
Happiness ? The Great Benefactor has so ordained that 
liajipiness is reaUy but another name for the perform- 
ance of duty. The querulous may parry this by the 
question. Are we not happy when we believe ourselves 
so ? I suppose we may be so infatuated by our passions 
as to delude ourselves that the possession of what we 
desire, though by dishonest means obtained, will a£ford 
us happiness. By such delusions are not all vices 
strengthened and encouraged till, by frequency and 
the companionship of kindred spirits, though in the 
practice of dreadful crimes, we satufy ourselves with the 
belief that we are at least as good as our fellow-men ? As 
I have already said, every man has some talent ; it is his 
pleasurable duty to use them for the benefit of his 
fellow-man. 

In the exercise of a busy life for the support of the 
physical element of man, when advancing age disables 
him from such pursuit, he must feel immeasurably grate- 
ful if he finds, as it were, an undercui'rent come to the 



Preface. 

surface whereby he can contribute to the happiness of 
man. 

When the Author was in his eighty-second year a 
friend expressed a >pish that he would compose and pub- 
lish a book of poems ; although some of them were 
written before, the "Autobiography," " Boiled Boots, or 
the Sportsman's Pride," and several others, were written 
subsequently. As the Author's sight disables him from 
reading or writing but through an amanuensis, he begs 
the indulgence of his readers for the inaccuracies un- 
avoidable in such case, especially as they do not aflfect 
the meaning. 



nd 



ex. 



On Books, 






3 


On Beading, 






4 


Lines Addressed to a Young Friend, 






.5 


On Happiness, 






7 


Ode to AVoman, 






s 


On Charity of the Heart 






10 


On the Devotion of the Heart, 






11 


On Seeking Knowledge, . . . 






12 


The Fall of Fort Sumpter, 






13 


Boiled Boots ; or, The Sportsman's Pride 






20 


Benevolent Institutions, 






31 


The Infidel Eebuked, 






36 


On Friendship, 






38 


On Music, 






39 


On Faith 






40 


Evening Prayer, .... 






41 


Be Kind to the Fallen, 






. 43 


Human Hopes and Wishes, 






. 44 


Lines on a Rug, 






45 


I Know That My Redeemer Liveth, 






. 46 


Lucubration, 






47 


A Riddle, 






49 


On the Futility of this Life, 






. .50 


The Old Man's Apology, 






. 52 


Symbolical Tax, 






. 54 


The Drunkard's Lament, . 






. 57 



On the Death 58 

Testium Sat Est, , . . .60 

Lines Written in a Lady's Album, . . .62 

Written for a Boy, 63 

Autobiography, 65 

Lines Written in an Album, 73 

Poem on a Railroad Accident, 75 



Introduction. 

WITH wrinkled brow and surly look, 
One asks why did you Avrite tins book ; 
Such might with reason surely be suspected 
When told an introduction is expected. 
Some would-be wag may say the phrase is stale. 
Write, why, of course, as you may know for sale 
This worthy prose, I'll parry it in verse- 
So is it with the cradle and the hearse. 
If long or short our course of hfe extend, 
The first the preface is, the last, the end ; 
If for man's Hfe a simile you'd look. 
In some degree you'd find it in a book ; 
But to the question thinking I'm ot age, 
I'll answer for myself or will engage ; 
The question's one, but I'll give answer two : 
The first is this, I've nothing else to do. 
The other's of incalculable weight, 
The moral things of man's eternal state. 



On Books. 



On Books. 

OF BOOKS, as men, variety we find ; 
Some good, some bad, some coarse and some re- 
fined. 
In some you'll surely find a wealthy mine 
Of Heaven-born Science (laws of God Divine). 

A youth, devoted to the classic page. 
Provides a Solace for advancing age- 
Emitting lustre o'er life's evening day, 
And cheering onward with her peaceful ray. 

Which, (like the Sun declining in the West) 
More radiant glows before his final rest ; 
They who, for mere amusement only read, 
Of vain repentance sow the bitter seed ; 

Their tastes demoralize, their mind decays, 
Their conversation ignorance betrays. 
He, whose preferments ribald writings crave 
To groveling vice succumbs a willing slave ; 

Who spurns the treasures of a well-stored mind. 
In worthless trash his pleasure seeks to find, 
Like the shoal brook enfed by slimy slums, 
Though more deceiving, shallower becomes. 



On Reading. 



On Reading. 



THOUGH GREAT the author, and though true the 
fact, 
'Tis worthless if the reader lack the tact 
To rightly judge between the false and true. 
This to accept, the former to eschew. 
In other words, the ground must be survey'd 
On which the author's mental tracks were laid, 
And traced the steps of his investigation, 
To find the cause of his determination ; 
If with our reason clearly it agi'ees. 
The knowledge is our own, if not, 'tis his ; 
We yield submissively servile assent, 
And with our ignorance remain content. 



Lilies Addressed to a Young Friend. 



Lines Addressed to a Young Friend on His 
Leaving Home for College, 

AS BEES, disporting through the sunny hours, 
Sweet honey gather from promiscuous flowers 
Of vivid scarlet, or cerulean blue, 
Unsullied whiteness or of sable hue. 
So thou (as from a friend), from bitter foe, 
Spurn not the anger which thy vices show ; 
For friends, too oft, in this all may agree. 
Virtues o'erpraise and fail defects to see. 
Choose those as fit companions for thy youth, 
Who think no sacrifice too great for truth ; 
But shun the man whose taste is so perverse 
That him who's bad, will vilify as worse. 
Be sin thy hate, but let the veil be drawn 
Of charity for sinners, though the thorn 
Of sin may be by condemnation wrought. 
Through penitential tears to virtue brought. 
If calumny assail thy friend or foe. 
Quickly the last defend, the first more slow. 
Thy words will prove more heavy through thy hate 
Than eloquence of a friend, however great ; 
The charge of partiality would lay 
'Gainst all the approving words a friend could say. 
But when defends his foe the generous youth. 
All naust admit the potency of truth. 



Lines Addressed to a Young Friend. 

Shun as a viper, with disdain extreme, 

The man who holds not woman in esteem ; 

Abhor the man who would so took or speak 

That blush would tingle on fair woman's cheek ; 

And may'st thou be to other beauties blind 

But those reflecting excellence of mind. 

Kemember, " Time's a talent only lent," 

Let not the moments of thy youth be spent 

In wasteful idleness, or wanton thought. 

But with sound learning and with virtue fraught ; 

Such will a source of happiness unfold, 

When you arrive at years considered old. 

Few be the years, at most, before the head 

That framed these lines is pillowed with the dead ; 

But may the lessons which I here impart 

Receive a welcome in your geaerous heart. 

Such is my wish, your ever-faithful friend, 

Till life and all its joys and sorrows end. 



On Happiness. 



On H 



appmess. 



H 



E, who'd have happiness at heart, 
To others must that bliss impart ; 
For, 'tis a fact, as all men know, 
What man would reap, he first must sow. 
No selfish motives can impart 
The riches of a generous heart ; 
But who'd possess the precious treasure, 
Must reap his joys in others' pleasure ; 
Must freely on himself impose 
The burthen of another's woes ; 
For the afflicted sorrow feel, 
Assuaging wounds he cannot heal. 
No frown should e'er deform his face. 
But, full of every Christian grace, 
His heart must bound with generous love 
(The fruit of virtue from above). 
Smoothing with peace throughout his hfe 
The wrinkles of discordant strife ; 
For others' grief must sympathize, 
And dry tie tears of Sorrow's eyes ; 
Though seeming paradox and strange. 
We can, for gladness, grief exchange. 
By lightening another's care. 
Evoke a blessing each may share. 



Ode to Woman. 



Ode to Woman. 



W 



HO knows the depth of woman's love, 

To man in mercy given ? 
No sordid offering of the Earth, 

A boon vouchsafed by Heaven. 



II. 
There is a heaven in woman's smile, 

A sadness in her tear, 
A sting more withering in her scorn 

Than all beside I'd fear. 

m. 

There is a witchery divine, 

To cheer Life's dreary spau. 
In woman's heart doth gently twine 

Aionnd the heart of man. 

IV. 

Thy presence, Woman, cheers the gloom, 
Edges with sheen the clouds of earth ; 

Thy sympathies our joys enhance, 
In our griefs thou prov'st thy worth. 

V. 

Did I, as some affect, opine 
Fair woman but for dalliance born. 

My happiest hours had thwarted been 
Of earth's most precious treasures shorn. 



Ode to Woman. 

VI. 

No happier moments e'er I know 
Than those which from her accents flow, 

No fitter means my soul prepare 
To kneel before my God in prayer. 

vn. 

He, of base villains is the worst, 
Who, projects vile doth make, 

By arts to win (the wretch acciu-st) 
A woman's heart to break. 

vm. 
A hero's fame were cheaply earned 

My blood's last drop to pour. 
To rescue Woman from the toils 

Of the destroyer's jjower. 



On Charity of tJie Heart. 



On Charity of the Heart; or, True Philan- 
thropy. 



N 



O cause to call all men unkind 
If you possess a generous mind, 
The world is, as a mirror, true, 
As others pass reflecting you. 
If with a smile you others greet, 
The same return from all you'll meet. 
You'll find the world will never brook, 
An angry tone or surly look. 
All have not means the poor to feed. 
Or kindness prove by generous deed, 
But a kind look and gentle word 
The very poorest can afford. 
If we against our neighbor rail 
Our prayers but little will avail. 
Condemn not others too severe, 
But thy shortcomings rather fear ; 
Our TKUEST friend and spiteful foe 
Our grievous sins will freely show. 
Though THIS from hate and that from love. 
Our use discreet, will wisdom prove. 



On the Bemtimi of the Heart. 



On the Devotion of the Heart. 



w 



HEN I compare the fervent zeal 
That glows within the Pagan's heart 

Bowing to senseless stone, 
My languid lips deserve reproach 
When I Thy sacred courts approach 

And kneel before Thy throne. 
Though metaphoric flowers of speech, 

(The coinage of the brain). 
May soothe an earthly monarch's ear, 

They're idle words and vain. 
Anthems harmoniously composed. 

Melodiously sung. 
Are nought but empty sound unless 

The heart attune the tongue. 



On Seeking Knowledge. 



On Seeking Knowledge. 

YOU'LL sometimes meet a man that wherever he 
goes 
Seems to think that his eyes were to see but his nose ; 
But such, mark ! is not the rule but exception ; 
For copy let wisdom direct your selection. 

If you wish another's opinion to know, 
Avoid by all means your own knowledge to show, 
For, if he suppose that you know more than he, 
He may not feel disposed to communicate free. 

From one who in learning is far you behind, 
You much information may frequently find, 
There's hardly a man, be he noble or mean, 
From whom you may not some intelligence glean. 

Interrogate Nature ; she's ever at hand, 
In the star-spangled heavens, broad ocean and land, 
What the insect minute from our eyes may conceal, 
The vast megatherium may clearly reveal. 



Tli£ Fall of Fart Sumpter. 



The Fall of Fort Sumpter 

AMEEICA ! land of the Free ! 
Well may thy sous be proiul of thee! 
May no dark cloud 
The brightness of thy t-ky enshroud, 
And may, Oh ! may it e'er be thine 
To kneel at Liberty's and Virtue's shrine. 
Here heathful Labor spreads her ample store, 
That honest Industry need ne'er be poor. 
Here bright-eyed Science and all-busy Art 
Will find their worthy meed— a ready mart— 
Her heathful climate and her generous soil 
Repay the husbandman's laborious toil ; 
Her Eastern cities' work of busy hands, 
The wealth of the community expands, 
Her whiten'd sails wide- spreading to the breeze. 
Bring home the products of the distant seas. 
To favored sons of luxury and ease ; 
Thus silken fabrics curiously wrought, 
From Eastern India's swarthy shores are brought. 
And from the land of sempiternal Spring 
Her vessels odoriferous spices bring ; 
Thus did the ships of her prolific shores 
Into the lap of Commerce pour their stores ; 
Thus did Prosperity her country woo, 
Which, in Arts, Wealth and Science, proudly grew, 
Her rise so rapid, such applause she drew, 

13 



The Fall of Fort Sumpter. 

That older nations wonder'd at tbe view ; 

Her cities fabled history outvied 

Of Arts and Science in the rapid stride. 

The plan matured on which her genius laid 

Her broad foundation and her liberal trade ; 

All men, as brothers, welcomed to her shore, 

Who love mankind and who their God adore ; 

The outcast Patriot and the exiled King 

May rest beneath her Eagle's sheltering wing. 

She the last link of bondage lately broke. 

When the slave groaned beneath the galling yoke, 

When Superstition's foot shall touch her talismanic shore, 

His rankling shackles fell and he is slave no more. 

Last, though not least, throughout her broadcast land, 

She rears her temples for her infant band. 

Modest in look, not formed for pride or show, 

Built to help her tender plants to grow ; 

For all these favors, bounteously given. 

Hymns redolent of praise ascended heaven ; 

But as no human knowledge e'er can bind 

The uncertain veerings of the fickle wind. 

So can no mortal e'er presume to know 

The coming morrow's weight of weal or woe : 

Thus, as in Heaven, erst foul Eebelliou rose, 

Passions malignant impious rage disclose, 

So Earth, most favored, less content contain. 

Nor over all do Truth and Virtue reign. 

But scowl-eyed Treason and her impious band, 

With rage demoniac, tried to subvert the land, 

A deed so monstrous and so foul a blast 

14 



The Fall of Fort Sumpter. 

On History's page made Nature stand aghast ; 
Benignant Nature at the aspect frowu'd, 
In dismal darkness draped the scene around, 
As mothers fondly o'er their infants close 
The sable curtain to invite repose. 
Grim is the picture when embitter'd strife 
Gluts with another's blood the reeking knife, 
When diflferent nations, in discordant jar, 
Conflicting troops oppose in hostile war ; 
But when by brother brother's life is sought, 
The blood encurdles at the dreadful thought. 
Fain would I drop the curtain o'er the scene. 
Or interpose apology between. 
How oft we mortals give an honor'd name 
Where Christianity would blush for shame ! 
'Tis sad to think how oft the slightest flaw 
Will cause a nation to engage in war. 
When passion leads we argue wrong is right. 
And each prepares to organize the fight, 
To wounded honor claim the battle due, 
And each with equal rancor each pursue. 
The madd'niug wine-cup or the bigot's hate, 
Foul Envy or Kevenge insatiate, 
Relentless Rage, malicious-hearted Spite, 
The blood may seethe and cruel deeds incite. 
Such spurious courage, when the deed is done. 
Will wilt as herblets in the morning sun ; 
But genuine courage such base means refuse ; 
Then sing his praise aloud, admiring Muse ! 
Who, in a noble cause, so nobly stood ; 

15 



Tlie Fall of Fort Sumpter. 

True courage dwells but with the just and good. 

At Major Anderson's heroic name 

A nation's breast should glow with generous flame. 

His courage, such as heaven alone supplies, 

All human power, all human force defies. 

Below the golden west had gone the sun, 

The weary lab'rer's toilsome work was done. 

Silence and darkness their mUd vigils keep, 

Quiescent Nature woo'd the world to sleep. 

The silent air, the stUlness of the ocean, 

Might soothe the pensive soul to calm devotion, 

And seem to speak, (as the Creator's wiU), 

To seas and human passions, "Peace ! Be still ! " 

Happy had man obeyed the just decree. 

And, with due reverence, bent the suppliant knee. 

'Twere easier to roll back the ocean's tide 

Than stem the impetuous course of human pride. 

Eight bells proclaim'd the hour. No ripple stirr'd 

The bosom of the deep. No sound was heard. 

But soon, how changed ! Ere thirty minutes passed, 

The booming cannon with its deaf 'ning blast. 

Awoke the slumb'rers from their soft repose. 

And lurid glare around the scenery throws. 

A pause ensued, as if the conscious thought 

(Reflecting) grieved the mischief she had wrought ; 

Such might, sweet Charity, be thine apppeal ; 

No such regret such miscreants ever feel. 

But, lost to all that's generous, good or great, 

Would sap a nation for a small estate. 

Now, with redoubled fury, near and far, 



TJve Fall of Fort Sumpter. 

Gleamed the artillery of tumultuous wax-, 
That, like volcanoes from the uplifted|sea, 
The explosive blasts appear that rend the air ; 
As though Creation's vault wide opened there. 
Their furious verberations rock the shore ; 
With ghastly flashing and tumultuous roar, 
A ponderous avalanche of bursting shell 
Against the liberty-devoted fortress fell. 
'Twas thus without. The fortress wall within, 
The heroic band their morning meal begin, 
As if preparing for a grand parade ; 
They leisiu-ely repast, and then obey'd 
Their valiant chief ; and thus his orders ran : 
"In quick succession answer gun for gun !" 
Resembling a continuous clap of thunder, 
As if the very earth were riven asunder, 
The gallant band, although in number few. 
Were, every soul a hero, tried and true ; 
Soon finding that their cartridges were spent. 
As an expedient their sleeves they rent. 
Theh' midday meal at noon they took, 
Yet not one man his post forsook. 
But, each one, standing by his gun. 
His scanty dinner thus begun, 
■ The last hard biscuit and salt pork, 
And calmly then resumed their work. 
So kept they on till night came round. 
When wearied Nature comfort found. 
In the calm slumber Duty knows 
In midst of dangers, death and foes. 

17 



The Fall of Fort Sumpier. 

The morning breaks ; now see within, 

Unruffled by the cannons' din, 

In si^irit unsubdued and undismay'd, 

True, noble-hearted courage there disj^lay'd 

'Mid fire and smoke and smoth'ring smell, 

And bolts and balls and show'ring shell, 

(Now ent'ring in, in fitful gust) 

Explosive coals and cinder- dust ; 

The conflagration fore and aft. 

In spiral columns skyward waft ; 

Yet did that band, that valiant band, 

True heroes, nobly, proudly stand ; 

Could human power such force combined withstand ? 

To human force must yield the work of human hand ; 

Strong waUs must crumble, stubborn stone must yield ; 

The oft-repeated blows at last revealed 

A breach, and in that embrasure 

One, bearing flag of truce, appear'd and said : 

"Why madly rush into the arms of death ? 

Your bravery deserves exalted praise. 

Which we accord you with the greatest pleasure ; 

But all things have a limited duration ; 

It were impossible to hold out longer. 

If e'en your armaments were ten times stronger ; 

My General sends his compliments ; yoii'll state 

The terms on which you will capitulate ; " 

Now, Major Anderson was of that sort 

Whose actions synchronize his thought ; 

He there in pride of manhood firmly stood, 

Above the wreck of matter vile and rude. 

18 



The Fall of Fort Sumpter. 

A man, indeed, was lie : for, that name 

The titles "Patriot," "Christian," "Hero" claim; 

A trusty soldier in his country's cause, 

A firm defender of her rights and laws ; 

"But two days since, your General heard 

My terms. I go not now behind my word ; 

Whether or death or danger, wounds or scars. 

I do insist upon the Stripes and Stars ; 

And from these terms before I'll falter, 

I'll spill my life's blood on my country's altar." 



Boiled Boots; or, The Sportsman's Pride. 



" A little nonsense now and then, 
Is relished by the wisest men." 



That sense is sens 3 you must allow, 
When'ere the sense is— sound ! 
And Where's the man that dare affirm. 
That nonsense is not— sound ! ! 
And here an argument I'll raise : 
Where nonsense doth abound, 
If you withhold all other praise. 
You must admit 'tis sound ! ! ! 



Boiled Boots ; or The Sportsman's Pride. 

I'LL tell you of a certain man, 
('Tis since tliis century began). 
It happened that this sorry wight, 
Was footman to a certain knight ; 
This knight (I know the story's true) 

Was Sir John F , as I tell you ; 

Sir John, in hunting pleasure found. 
In scamp'ring briskly o'er the ground ; 
With boots and spur, and bit and bridle, 
He, in the chase, was never idle. 
As Sir John dress'd in Fashion's height, 
His boots must certainly shine bright. 
So, of Sam's duties 'twas a part. 
In polishing, to show his art. 



Boiled Boots; or, The Sportsman's Pride. 

One evening, Sam, as he ought, 

The bootjack to his master brought ; 

With boots in hand, away he went, 

On his next duty then intent. 

Some things we do, so prompt's the act, 

The mind seems not to note the fact. 

An instance this : Sam, in his haste. 

The boots upon the copper placed. 

It so occurr'd that, the next morn, 

The maiden rose before the dawn. 

The reason why, I here will say : 

It happened to be washing day, 

And as the maiden raised the lid. 

The boots into the copper slid. 

Sam soon arose, with calm composure, 

Not dreaming of the day's disclosure ; 

His duty first the horse to groom, 

And clean the stall with fork and broom. 

And then, with brush and blacking. 

He sought the boots, but they were lacking : 

He paced the scull'ry round and round, 

And yet could not the boots be found. 

"Where are the boots ? " he oft rei)eated, 

But no response his audist greeted. 

While thus employed he heard a shout, 

And ran to see what 'twas about ; 

Soon as the maiden stirr'd the clothes 

Quickly a queer quidest arose ; 

Sam little time could spare to wait 

And of its nature judicate. 

21 



Boiled Boots; or. The Sportsman's Pride. 

What color 'twas 'twere hard to say, 

If grayish brown or brownish gray ; 

If shape belonged to such a being, 

It only could be known by seeing ; 

It surely seem'd to bid defiance 

To laws of mathematic science ; 

To worship it no prohibition 

Was found on decalogue condition. 

'Twas long since Sam believed in witches. 

That words could be trausform'd to riches, 

If by a sprite or fairy uttered, 

Or by a muzzled monkey mutter'd, 

That boots could through a key hole creep, 

And stray from home while good folks sleep 

So, stole they were was his conclusion. 

Or lost, which caused him great confusion. 

Concluding it a fruitless chase, 

Sam now had given tap the race ; 

While thus perplexed in rumination, 

He heard a boisterous exclamation ; 

The cause of this omniferous sound. 

Another quidest had they found. 

Enslaved by Superstition's chain. 

To terror Reason yields the rein. 

Submit one sense to terror's sway. 

The others passively obey ; 

She has the rising bubble broke. 

Declared the heteropodos spoke. 

Sam followed in the sound's direction, 

Resolved to make a close inspection. 



Boiled Boots; oi\ The Sportsman's Pride. 

Now, as the Eoman poet sings, 
Fear once to boots appended wings ; 
Had he been there upon that day, ' 

He might averted much dismay. 
Sam weiit, he saw and asked the maid, 
Who all her rhetoric displayed — 
With blanched lips and features pale, 
Told at full length her doleful tale, 
With long words of exhausted sense. 
In multiverbal eloquence. 
Sam might have laughed if not oppress'd 
But too much grief upou his breast. 
The solemn footman bent his head ; 
Some minutes passed ; no Avords he said ; 
Then, as if from a dream just woke. 
With languid lips these few words spoke. 
In hollow words of deep despair, 
' 'Tis Sir John's boots, I do declare." 
Sam, now in awful trepidation, 
(Fearing he'd lose his situation) 
Knowing the lady's tender heart, 
He would to her his woes impart. 
Or else (pardon the digression), 
He'd read of Eve and learnt a lesson ; 
So, when the lady came down stairs, 
He thus began to explain affairs : 
With face of most lugubrious pattern, 
As if he had been chased by Satan, 
He thus began his doleful ditty 
In tones of soul- exciting pity : 

23 



Boiled Boots; or. The Sports7nan's Pride. 

" Your ladyship, I've lived with you 
And, as a footman, served you true. 
Was present when you were united. 
Lived with you when Sir John was knighted, 
Bewailing now my sad estate, 
I'd ask of you a favor great ; " 

" WeU, Sam, don't be afraid to say— 
I've guessed it long, so, don't delay ; 
The prompt attentions you have paid 
To Sal, the pretty chamber-maid, 
Although Sir John and I, I know, 
Would sorry be for you to go, 
But. as you both have so agreed, 
For my part I will not impede, 
But Avill a friendly present make, 
And fruit provide for wedding-cake. " 

"Sorrow and grief besiege my heart, 
And leave not room for Cupid's dart ; 
Love's empire claims the sole domain — 
No other can admittance gain ; 
The troubles that assail my heart 
Are quite remote from Cupid's dart ; 
Last night I calmly went to rest ; 
No cares or grief my heart oppress'd. 
In peaceful slumber pass'd the night, 
And gladly hail'd the morning's light, 
But now the issues of the fall 
O'erpower my senses like a pall. " 
"Why, Sam! you were not there, you know — 
How could it then affect you so ? " 

24 



Boiled Boots; or. The Sportsman's Pride. 

"Oh, yes ! your ladyship ; had I been there, 

I'd have i^revented all this sad aflfaii- ; 

When I this morn the earliest dawn beheld. 

Had I arose this trouble I'd dispell'd. 

I quake with horror at the very sound ; 

My master's boots were in the boiler found. 

Madam's reflections on the footman's speech : — 

(Minds, when disordered, Reason overreach) 

Yet there seems something of more recent date, 

As intermingling in the poor man's pate— 

By which she gets an inkling of the truth. 

And, tender-hearted, tries his grief to soothe. 
"Now, Sam, explain to me, so I see clear — 

So I'll present it to my husband's ear ; 

You say, I understand, the boots were drown'd ; 

But, has not yet the coroner b >en found? 

But, as 1 read, they sit upon the body, not the sole ; 

Over the latter they have not control ; 

Now, Sam, you don't seem well, go take your ease. 

And I will try his anger to appease ; 

Bid Sue directly take the best tureen, 

And let the boots be nicely placed therein ; 

When Sir John at the table takes his seat. 

In due accordance with so rare a treat ; 

With gravity of face and due decorum, 

Place the tureen immediately before him. " 

Now, Sue was such a merry-hearted soul, 

'Twas hard her facial muscles to control ; 

And, as she left the grinning kitchen-folks 

'Midst peals of laughter and hilarious jokes, 



Boiled Boots; or. The Sportsman's Pride. 

(If anything than measles is 

More catching by contagion, 

It surely is. you must admit, 

A fit of cachinnation). 

So, Nature being overtax'd, 

The muscles of her face relax'd. 
" Now let the breakfast be brought in, 

'Tis time, I think, we should begin ; 

Your knife, perhaps, you'll need to whet ; 

The steel is there, now don't forget ;" 

On saying this, she shamm'd a cough. 

In hope to smother up a laugh ; 
" Sir John, you've often banter'd me 

On the time I take to dress ; 

And that it takes some time, of course, 

I'm willing to confess ; 

You do not wish your loving wife 

As a dowdy to appear. 

To be of every one the butt. 

And of all the town the jeer. 

Where then would be your compliments, 

So dainty and so rare 

As when you on yovu* pony ride 

With such a jaunty air ? 

But I will fifty guineas bet, 

And put the money down. 

That I will dress from head to foot, 

And every garment don, 

Before you can (though smart you are). 

Your hunting boots put on ; 



Boiled Boots; or, The Sjwrtsman's Pride. 

' ' Well, Madam, if that is your whim, 

Resolved to be so rash, 

I certainly shall not object 

To pocketing the cash. " 
" Done !" said the Lady, "there they are ; 

Just take them out and try ; 

Perhaps you'd better wait a while 

And give them time to dry. 

Besides if you should try them now. 

No doubt they might be tight. 

And then, af course, the work indeed, 

You'd find, would not be light ; 
" My boots ! Now, really ! are they ? — 

Or is all this but idle play ? 

If so, (according to my mind,) 

He'll find it an expensive kind ; 

He shall (of course 'tis Sam I mean) 

No longer in my house be seen : 

For, no such lazy, careless hound 

Must on my premises be found. " 
' ' Sir John, I've pleasant news to tell : 

The Post — you just now heard the bell— 

The Newspaper— just fresh from town— 

His Lordship soon is coming down ; 

His eldest son is now of age. 

As country sports are all the rage, 

A race upon a scale much higher 

Than ever known within the shire ; 

And there's no doubt that in the race 

Your steed will take the highest place. 

27 



Boiled Bo'>U; or. The Sportsman's Pride. 

Through all the county 'tis confessed 
Your stud and kennel are the best, 
Your hounds sagacious, fiery steed, 
His Lordship's even far exceed." 
"For horse that suits me, brown or gray, 
I'm -willing a round price to pay. 
Some slowly barter for a groat. 
The bargain's by another bought ; 
In such a case I have no play, 
But purchase make without delay, 
And without grudge the money pay. 
My Hberality is known. 
So by that means the best I own ; 
Now that procedure (you'll agree) 
To have the best entitles me." 
"You're surely lavish in the matter, 
That some have said, ' You money scatter. 
All this I certainly admit. 
But a short question I'll submit : 
Your cash would not be well espended 
If, after, they were ill-attended ; 
Perhaps you'll find, on due reflection. 
Not cause enough for Sam's rejection. 
Now, think awhile upon your plan ; 
Find (if you can) a better ^man. 
He's honest, faithful, upright, true, 
This praise to him is justly due ; 
And, more — his place to fitly suit — 
His kindness he extends to brute. " 
-The Lady paused : A milder grace 



Boiled Boots; or. The Sportsman's Pride. 

Relaxed the muscles of his face : 

' The praise that has been paid to you, 

By truest right to Sam is due ; 

Your Ladyship makes things so plain, 

I certainly will Sam retain ; 

I'll see the Doctor on my way, 

And bid him due attention pay, 

But, first of all, before I go, 

I'd of Sam's obvious symptons know : 

Though to nosology a stranger, 

I do not think his life in danger ; 

His mind showed symptoms evident obvious and 
erratic. 

His body is beyond a doubt inclined towards room- 
attic ; 

Perhaps a little rest and treatment kind 

Will soothe the trouble of his minil, 

I hope his malady will be of short duration, 

And vigor leave to fill his situation." 



Benevolent Institutions. 



Our Benevolent Institutions the Best 
Nurseries of Religion. 

WHEREVER we cast our eye, or direct our sense, 
we find displayed before us in characters so 
forcible, as to prohibit either our denial or disre- 
gard of the mutability of all terrestrial objects. As the 
passing cloud reflected on the undulating bosom of the 
rippled wave, so are the phenomena which continually 
meet us in our daily observation. As the robust and 
sturdy oak of the present is but the j^rogeuy of the pigmy 
acorn, so is it typical of that universal law that pervades 
all created objects. The plant having vegetated its 
destined course, is mostly contributory to the benefit of 
man in administering to his necessities or his happiness. 
Amidst this universal progress shall man alone remain 
inactive? Alas! how many or how few of us after our 
earthly pilgrimage will leave the mere shadow of a mark 
of having lived to any useful purpose to our fellowman. 
Man, like an amphibious animal, may be said to partake 
of two natures in many respects opposite to each other. 
Perhaps the greatest mistake of mankind is their prone- 
ness to overestimate the importance of the body to that 
nobler nature, the mind. This illusion may be partly 
accounted for by the fact that, as the body requires con- 
stant exertion for its necessities it engrosses too large a 
portion of our thoughts, thus binding us to the fact to 
which I have adverted. A little reflection will satisfy 



Benevolent Institutions. 

most persons that something is necessary to act as a cor- 
rective or counterpoise to such delusion. The preacher 
will point -with bold confidence to the sacred edifices 
dedicated to the sublime purpose of the worship of the 
Great and Beneficent Rector of the Universe. 

That such slioukl be sufficient I do not deny ; but if we 
take men as they are, considering the extreme degree of 
zealous devotion worthy of the true worshipper, how few 
can leave the temple of the Deity without a sense of their 
unfitness to have entered the sacred edifice, or a sense of 
shame from the consciousuess of their imperfect devotions. 

If I Judge harshly of others, it is from my own self 
condemnation. The question then arises, how shall we 
be prepared for the proper exercise of that important 
duty ? When we consider m the present state of man, 
the conflicting circumstances by which he is surrounded, 
the mercenary spirit of commerce, the enthralling and 
imperious demands of labor are so many militations 
against the moral amenities that characterize the man of 
benevolence and the true Christian. 

Opposed to the gradual advancement that prevails in 
all other departments is the belief entertained by some, 
that they can vault, as it were, by a single V)ound, from the 
depths of depravity into the jirecincts of Heaven. 

The proper counterpoise, I believe, will be found in 
those associations which inculcate the exercise of the 
virtue of Benevolence, which may be justly called the 
twin sister of Religion. Whatever tends to link the 
duties that spring from Religion with the every day 
business of life is beyond all earthly value. What can 



Benevolent Institutions. 

more exalt the human character than the exercise of a 
benevolent spirit ? As in the company of the wicked, 
vicious propensities are strengthened and encouraged, 
so in the society of a moral community, the moral facul- 
ties are invigorated and supported. To meet at stated 
periods to carry out practically the heavenly virtue of 
retrieving a fellow-being from the slavish chains of a 
degrading passion, of breaking asunder the fetters that 
bind with unyielding desijotism the mind and body of 
its victim to be engaged in such an enterprise, must en- 
list the noblest sentiments and carry us above the sel- 
fishness of our ordinary avocations. The strict perfor- 
mance of duty calls for a daily sacrifice of selfish desires, 
whilst the consciousness of the fulfilment of duty carries 
with it so pleasing a gratification, it might be thought 
strange that after experiencing its delight, we should 
fail to be constantly engaged in its practice. The truly 
moral would avoid doing anything to annoy another. 
Such a principle would tend to harmonize the human 
family by a strict adherence to the laws that should re- 
gulate our intercourse with each other. The noJ)ility of 
such a character may be shown by contrasting it with the 
opposite. Itus pleasing to reflect that few are so lost to 
a proper sense of what is due to their fellowbeings as 
singly to disturb the harmony of the meeting, but when 
two or three kindred spirits are present they are bold in 
their disturbance and annoyance. The moral sense of 
the community and the respect which the good always 
entertain for the fair sex, is generally sufficient to pre- 
serve a due decorum in their presence. The whispers 

33 



Benevolent Institution^,. 

of conscience may be likened to a silken thread of subt- 
lest fibre, inviting us to Heaven, whilst the human 
passions may be compared to cords of trij^le strand to 
drag us hellward. Religion without morality, love of 
Ood and indifference to the welfare of our fellowman, is 
a shadow without a substance, or a dismasted vessel 
without rudder or compass, drifting into the gulfs of 
bigotry and superstition. Although morality is not the 
fulness of religion, the cultivation of it may be regarded 
as the surest and safest introduction to it. To be associ- 
ated with a brotherhood whose object is to raise the 
fallen, to strengthen and encourage the weak in extricat- 
ing them from the despotic toils of an infatuated passion, 
to sympathize with the afflicted and exult at the cheering 
progress of the subjugation of vicious temptations, can- 
not fail to be morally profitable to all engaged therein. 
It is my belief if ever that blissful period shall come on 
■earth, that man will be actuated solely by principles of 
benevolence and virtiie, it will be mainly attributable 
to such an association as that to which we have had the 
honor to enrol our names. 

Let us ever bear in mind and cherish the principles of 
<our order and be steadfast in the observj^nce of Philan- 
thropy, Fidelity and Purity. 

As the valiant soldier shrinks not from his duties, but 
performs them with the zealous alacrity that springs 
from a true devotion to his country's welfare, so should 
he who engages in a moral undertaking be true to the 
obligations he has voluntarily assumed. 

There will always be persons who, from ignorance or 

34 



Benevohnt Inxtitutiona. 

interest, are ever ready to oppose every uudertakiiig and 
frequently without condescending to inform themselves 
fully of its nature and objects, whilst some will deny 
any institution from the mere circumstance of some in- 
cidental accompaniment, whicli excites their prejudice. 
It is not always the best policy to waste time by engag- 
ing to prove that which i/oxr conscience fully endorses to 
those who are predetermined not to be convinced. 



ON ascending a mountain, the greater the height, 
The broader the prospect displayed to the sight. 
And the pathway of science as we journey through, 
The workshop of nature spread out to our view. 
Lights the summer of youth with the rays from its])age. 
And tempers serenely the Winter of age. 



The Infidel Rebuked. 



The Infidel Rebuked. 

TRIFLES, trifles have no place, 
On creation's genial face, 
Every atom in the air, 
Has its destined duty there ; 
The zephyr fans the fever'd cheek, 
Renews with vigorous strength the weak. 
Gives to the rose its dainty bloom, 
The jessamine its sweet perfume ; 
The gentle zephyrs of the vale. 
By aggregation from the gale, 
That safe transports to our own shores 
The products of our neighbor's stores. 
This commerce you may plainly see, 
Makes different nations to agree ; 
The savage thus by interest mild, 
And petty quarrels reconciled ; 
Thus, by HIS power, the favoring breeze, 
.Adds to our comforts, wealth, and ease. 
When seas are calm and skies serene, 
"The scoffer boldly vents his spleen. 
As crinkling cowards valor show 
When distance shields them from the foe. 

Driven by the maddening wild winds sweep, 
<!^areening o'er the vortex deep, 

36 



The Infidel Betttked. 

To the terrific thunder sound, 

Like school boy's top, the ship wheels round and round, 

Whose faith is buUt upon the rock. 

Stands firm regardless of the shock ; 

But he who doth not God revere, 

His trembling limbs unnerved by fear. 

With ashen lips and fainting breath, 

He dreads the mighty conqueror Death ; 

He thus proclaims his own defeat, 

And owns himself an arrant cheat. 



On Friendship. 



On Friendship. 



THERE is a charm in frieuclsiiip's name^ 
Its birth of pure celestial flame, 
It tastes of Heaven from whence it came. 

A shield secure when care annoys ; 
A sacred fount that never cloys ; 
How pure ! how blest its balmy joys ! 

From Heaven it flows our earth to bless 
In its unclouded loveliness ; 
If ills betide, or reigns success. 

O ! may it all my powers employ 
While here below my heart to buoy, 
Nor can Earth's power its bliss destroy. 

Till ceuter'd on my Saviour's breast 
Singing hosanuahs with the blest, 
In Heaven I seek my final rest. 



On Music. 



On Music. 

THERE'S music in the cloudless sun 
As lie gilds the rising moru, 
And in the store of boundless wealth 
In the fields of golden corn. 

There's music on the gorgeous rays 

Of the declining sun, 
And in the laborers' homeward step 

When his daily toil is done. 

There's music in the temj^ests wild 

That dash the billows high, 
In the splendor of the silver stars 

That sparkle in the sky. 

There's music in the welcome 

That cheers declining age, 
The welcome smiles that light us through 

Our lonely pilgrimage. 

But why do I endeavor — 

Fit music none can tell, 
For countless mercies showered by Him 

" Who doeth all things well.' 



On Faith. 



On Faith. 

THOUGH sombre clouds obscure the light, 
Through the long lonesome night 
Why should we in sorrow roam ? 
Have we not a brighter home ? 
Faith the murky darkness breaks 
Faith the soul from bondage wakes, 
And though the night be darkness drear 
Will with strenght sustain and cheer, 
Piercing through the lurid gloom 
Shedding radiance o'er the tomb. 
Sweet requite ! if duty's done 
In our heart is Heaven begun. 



Evening Prayer. 



Evening Prayer. 

LORD, may the blackness of the night, 
Remind me of my dark estate ; 
How dare a reptile, weak, and blind. 
Approach Thy throne supremely great ! 

Tho' Thou dost light the day to guide 

Our steps thro' this (a thorny way J, 
How do I wander, far and wide. 

And from Thy holy precepts stray, 
Shoiildst Thou this night my soul require. 

Nor longer mercy's grace forbear. 
How would despair my bosom till ; 

But, Oh ! Blest Lord, in pity spare ! 
Shouldst Thou vouchsafe another day ! 

The sight of wisdom pray impart ; 
O, may my soul from Thee receive 

Thy grace renewed within my heart, 
When in the morn my body wakes. 

May so from sin my soul arise. 
So spend each day its close may find 

In heavenly wisdom, me more wise ; 
When I resume my daily clothes. 

To deck this body vile and mean, 
May I with righteousness be clad. 

And be all pure and clean within ; 
• 41 



Evening Prayer. 

And whilst Thy hand my wants supplies, 

Before I plead my urgent need, 
My soul to Thee for succor fly, 

For only Thou art great indeed. 
Thy Spirit dwell within my heart, 

And guide my thoughts, my will control. 
That when on earth I end my part, 

My name in Heaven Thou mayst enroll ; 
Whilst health prevails and meroy pleads, 

O, may my soul awake from sin. 
And while^the dying Saviour bless, 

Remove Thy grace ; O, Lord ! within. 



Be Kind to the Fallen. 



Be Kind to the Fallen. 



B 



E just to thy brother, 
If from his faults thou art free, 
Thou not from some other ; 

Let thy owu weakness plead 
For thy less favored brother ; 

To let thy own shame 
As a cloak his to smother ; 
But if over your passions you have the control. 
Bless God for His guidance, protecting your soul, 

But do I not mock thee ? 

Art thou free from ill, 
Do thy thoughts, words and acts 
All those duties fulfill ? 
When to God supreme, prayer is offered by thee. 
Does thy heart in deep penitence bend with thy knee : 

If so, then how great is the debt that you owe, 

To the great God above, from whom all blessings flow. 

We must know that our duty we_i'ail to fulfill, 

If towards our neighbor we harbor ill will ; 

Can we pray to our Father, our sins to remit, 

If we dare, to his terms, we refuse to submit. 



Human Hopes and Wishes. 



On the Uncertainty of Human Hopes 
and Wishes. 

HARD'S the man who'd stint the measure, 
Of his neighbor's cup of pleasure ; 
He who adds but one drop more, 
For that drop receives a score. 

We are of a jovial choir. 
And happiness to all desire ; 
Life is short and art is long. 
That's the Roman jjoet's song. 

God's and nature's laws obeying. 
While we're singing, talking, praying. 
Hard's the man who'd stint the measure 
Of his neighbor's cup of pleasure. 

Our wishes fan hojje's latent spark. 
And fancy feigns a flame ; 
On'.passing clouds our hoiDes we write. 
On lake serene our wish indite. 

This fact we cannot smother, 
The gathering winds the first disperse. 
And 'tis alas ! no idle verse, 

The ripple mars the other. 



Lines on a Rug. 



Lines on a Rug Made From Rags Sent 
to the Suffolk County Fair. 

THIS little dog wanted to go to the Fair, 
But like Flora McFlimsey had nothing to wear, 
So looking around him what did he find, 
But a bundle of rags for a carpet designed ; 
And donning them said, the mark I've hit. 
No tailor could suit me or better me fit. 
So much for my body ; and on my tail, 
He would be a smart boy who could hang a tin pail. 



/ Knoio That My Redeemer Livetli. 



I Know That My Redeemer Liveth. 

THIS fair white sheet, how shall I dare to blot 
Its face (unsullied with a soil or spot), 
Like virtue pure its pristine freshness wears, 
White as a lily with its fair compeers, 
But if perchance I should defile its face. 
The knife's keen edge its surface might replace ; 
And by an abler pen might yet appear, 
Some beauteous verses to delight the ear, 
The mind improve, refresh the weary heart. 
And Heaven's bright never-fading joys impart. 
Not so, the soul, the guilty stain of sin, 
Not all the knives, with blades however keen, 
Not all the golden treasures earth can find, 
Can cleanse the stains of the sin-sullied mind ; 
But Mercy's interposing ray divine, 
Has caused our darkness with a light to shine, 
A way made open to repentant hearts. 
Our God displays, and freely (asked) imparts, 
If sought at Ccilt'ary's atoning flood. 
In the redemption of the Saviour's blood. 



Lucubration. 



Lucubration. 

) ^niS the solemn hour of one, ' 

I How many their short race have run 
Since the Sun's last jaarting ray 
Our departed, speeding on his way ; 
How many hopes by fate deferred, 
How many in the Ocean buried, 
How many by false joys deceived, 
How many of best friends bereaved, 
In darkness, many lose their way. 
That were not strange, but strange to say, 
'Gainst truth how many wilful stray. 
How many groaning in their bed. 
How many mourning for their dead. 
How many of theu- stores bereft. 
How many hearths are lonely left. 
How many on the Ocean tost, 
How many precious souls are lost. 

The clock strikes two, the stars are bright, 

And shining show to human sight 

The order Deity decreed, 

So clear that all mankind may read. 

What eye the canopy can view. 

And yet withhold the reverence due 

To HIM whose will the whole upholds, 

As he the vast expanse beholds. 

And while the boundless space we span. 

47 



Lticubration. 

Think how diminutive is man, 
Perfection reigns in Nature's law, 
No marring by a single flaw. 
All nature's works their courses run, 
As from the first age they began 
Then- distinct duty to fulfil ? 
According to the Almighty's will. 
When that time shall cease to be. 
Is known, O Lord, alone to Thee. 

The clock strikes three, the sky is overcast, 
A traveler, I think him, just now past ; 
'Tis by the watchdog's bark I'm judging, 
A traveler on his journey trudging. 

By way of episode I'd ask. 
Who taught the trusty dog the useful task 
To guard his master's goods from harm 
By giving a tumultuous alarm. 

The clock strikes four, the world still seems to sleep, 
Shall I indulge in meditation deep. 
Or let fantastic fancy hold the rein, 
To the wild revels of a sjDortive brain. 
Sneer not, stern critics, that I own I wrote ; 
FoUie's the o'erwought brain's best antidote. 

The clock strikes five ; 

And by the humming of the busy hive 



Lucubration. 

The world now awakes, 

And every one his onward journey takes. 

Methinks I hear before I till the page 

"It harshly grates upon my pensive ear," 

Garrulity of age. 

So as I end, Good wishes tend 

To every one— bitter foe and trusted friend. 



A Riddle. 



WHY is an old man, who with a cat plays, 
Like a boy on whose nose a hot poultice lays ? 
He has a cat to please him (cataplasm). 



On the Futility of This Life. 



On the Futility of This Life. 

LIFE'S but a vapor— joy a dream, 
And happiness an empty toy — 
A shadow, or a flitting beam 
Chased by an idle boy ! 
A reed which every passing breath 
May break, or bruise, a slender thi-ead 
More subtle than the spider's web, 
A worm, crushed by the thoughtless tread, 
An April day that changeth soon, 
A taper's light in Summer's noon. 
Such is earth's happiness to those 
Who blindly trust its false repose ; 
But those who seek in Truth and Love, 
Will surely find in realms above ; 
There, only in its native glow, 
Can happiness unsullied grow, 
Where piety and righteous zeal 
Is all its holy inmates feel ; 
In purest love where glory reigns 
In endless, everlasting plains ; 
Its hills are hills where songs of praise 
To God, in love aU voices raise, 
It's vallies ring with fervent praise, 
Whose clustered hosts unnumbered are ; 

50 



On the Futility of -This Life. 

Oli ! let us while on earth we live, 
Our souls to God, our Maker, give, 
As each his all to God resign, 
Pray, may this happiness be mine ! 
So when this land of woes and tears, 
From our weak vision disappears. 
May we, by Faith, thro' Jesus rest 
In ransomed glory with the blest! 



Tlie Old Man's Apology. 



The Old Man's Apology. 

SOME think an old man sliould be solemn and staid, 
With a pcowl as acurb as a bankrupt in trade ; 
Should never i|idulge in a laugh or a smile, 
All such sort or foibles should set him aroile ; 
Should walk as if bunions encumbered his toes ; 
With a visage revealing unspeakable woes, 
So haggard and toothless, dejected, forlorn ; 
Sad pity, poor creature, he ever was born. 
What on earth is he good for, can anyone say ? 
Yes, indeed, it's too plain, just to stand in oiu* way. 
Says a bright little chap, scarce half way to his teens. 
And to eat beef and cabbage, bacon and beens. 
So picture they him without aid of Daguerre, 
Do they think he'll accept it without a demurrer. 
Ye prattlers, I warn ye, you'd better be quiet. 
Lest you should be questioned thus, ' ' What mean ye by 

it?" 
Now, I'm not deputed to speak for the rest. 
But I hesitate not for myself to protest, 
But before I proceed I am free in admitting, 
That a serious deportment is sometimes befitting. 
That age should not indulge in abuse and invective. 
But kindly take sometimes a view retrospective. 
When in childhood he caper'd and danced with delight, 



The Old Mail's Apology. 

When the soap bubbles rose till quite lost to the sight. 

When the present time offer'd no cares to annoy, 

And hope painted the future in visions of joy. 

Then let not age repine o'er the joys that are past, 

But rejoice when the younger enjoy their repast. 

Teach, by precept, the young, the right path to pursue, 

And exemplify virtue in his conduct, too ; 

Teach all the young folks to be candid and true, 

And let each one, the bent of his pleasure pursue. 

Provided he always keeps virtue in sight, 

In pursuit of good deeds may we all take delight, 

Nor be over-zealous how it may be done. 

In sober reflection, in reading or fun. 

For he who is generous noble and true. 

His precepts, his actions will ever shine through ; 

Then why should not age join in the pastimes of youth, 

It with them be found innocence, virtue and truth. 



SymboUeal Tax. 



Symbolical Tax, or the King's Dessert, 
Sitting in Regal State. 



T 



HE subject of my verse is George the Third, 

A monarch of whose fame you've doubtless, heard. 

As he in honor sat upon his tlirone, 

Dreaming allegiance due to him alone. 

On finding that his purse was getting light, 

And, exmeesse deeming (well he might). 

He, to replenish it should have recourse, 

As matters now were daily getting worse. 

And while his majesty was angry, waxing, 

He vow'd the Colonies he'd try by taxing ; 

And as his praises were of late unsung, 

A tax he'd put on every Rebel's tongue. 

So placing all the letters him before, 

Which, to decide, the Rebels should ignore ; 

And, as the councilors of his dominion, 

Each in his turn submitted his opinion. 

They could not see or how or when or where, 

To put a tax upon a thing of air. 

No mode, they thought, could ever be invented, 

Unless a letter something represented ; 

A lucky thought, for when they came to T, 

They solv'd the anxious mystery. 

So 'twas decided by the King's decree. 

To tax each tongue bj its first letter T ; 

54 



Symbolical Tax. 

And what was done we presently will see. 

The King just now in high majestic rage, 

To enforce the tax sent a General Gage ; 

He also sent another General, " Howe," 

To humble Eebels he would quickly show. 

But so mistaken was the General " Howe," 

To do it was quite difficult just now. 

So "How " he did return without succeeding. 

The book will tell you (it is worth the reading). 

The King on welcoming his quick returning, 

And self-complacent of his keen discerning. 

Just as did I and as might any know, 

It only did require the guns to show. 

You must have very much enjoy'd the fun, 

To see the scamp'ring Rebels frighten'd run. 

So quick talk'd he and so complacent grin, 

Howe (though he tried) could not a word put in. 

For did his majesty so wildly ramble. 

In fancy seeing all the Rebels scramble ; 

Now, General, tell me all you know about. 

Forgetting, when he tried, he put him out. 

And, General, let me hear you speak out plain. 

How many of the Rebels did remain. 

When you the field had left was there a score ? 

Perhaps, or possibly one or two more. 

Well done, dear General, you shall be Sir Knight, 

Pleas'd how so quick you've set the matter right. 

'T will be but a short time before we dine, 

In the meantime we'll take a glass of wine. 

The King a pinch of lundy-foot now took, 

55 



Symbolical Tax. 

Howe taking prompt advantage of his hick 
And growing very anxious to explain 
The matter to his Sire's bemuddled brain, 
Once more he tried ; but ah ! he tried in vain. 
The cause — his Majesty no longer there 
Had gone, his dinner toilet to prepare. 
On his return — ' ' Now, General, say no more, 
'T will serve a rare dessert ; and not before 
A word I'll hear. So not his Sire t' oflfend. 
Thus for the present did the matter end. 
How well the dessert did the Sovereign relish, 
The following lines the subject will embellish. 

The king upon the sofa now reclining, 

His head no clearer for his ample dining ; 

The king now waved his hand, which meant permission, 

The details to explain without omission. 

Your sire's command that I no word omit, 
Though as a subject I scarce deem it fit ; 
They said, they said, and as the door they slammed. 
About the tax, your majesty be d d. 



The Drunkard's Lament. 



The Drunkard's Lament, or the Botth 



A Parody on Nursery Bhymes. 

WHAT made me from my duty stray ? 
What led me ou from day to day?* 
What caused too oft the brutal fray ? 
The Bottle. 
What led me ou from bad to worse ? 
Deeper aud deeper iu the course 
Of sin's career, uor felt remorse ? 

The Bottle. 
Why liad I from my duty turned ? 
That her I'd sworn to love I'd spurn'd ? 
From what had I this lessjon learned ? 

The Bottle. 
So high my angry passions rose, 
Her mild words answered I with blows ; 
What caused? (could demon e'er suppose), 

The Bottle. 
What nerved my arm to strike the blow 
That laid my faithful partner low, 
And leer to see her life blood flow ? 

The Bottle. 
And now within the felon's grate, 
The murd'r's sentence I await, 
Shun ye the cause of my sad fate— 

The Bottle. 



On the Death. 



On the Death. 

THE value of a priceless treasure, 
We only, by its loss, can measure. 
Death asks not whom we best can spare, 

But from the motley crowd 
He gathers up the old and young. 
The toil-worn and the proud. 

Ever to human peace a foe. 

He wages endless strife ; 
Severs the silken cords that bind, 

The mother and the wife. 

These solemn thoughts to me occurred, 
When of your mother's death I heard. 

When I recall the genial smile, 

That gladsome eye that welcome gave 

A few short months ago, 
Now lies within the silent grave, 

'Twas Heaven decreed it so. 

It is the hidden — unseen power, 

And not the hands that point the hour. 



On the Death. 

That unseen power yet survives, 

In its congenial sphere ; 
No soiTows, no con-oding cares 

Or grief can enter there. 

As fades the brightness of the stars, 

Upon],the rising] sun ; 
Her mourning friends their loss deplore, 

But she the prize has won. 



Testium Sat Est. 



Testium Sat Est. 

THERE are so many Pi]Ls— if all's true that is said, 
That will cure all disease, from the sole to the head. 
Of everj kind and ev'ry degree, 
From the Cholera down to the bite of a flea, 
So it's no use to tell of what pills will do. 
Because, of these Cure-alls there's not a few. 
But the Pills I am going to talk about, 
I never pretended would cure the Gout. 
Amongst the ills it's our lot to endure, 
I'll mention a few that these pills will not cure. 
They'll not cure a dead hog, without smoking or salt : 
Nor a man that is born with a limping halt. 
And I'm sorry it's so, but the truth must be said, 
They'll not bring back the teeth in an old man's head. 
They'll not, I think, straighten a man's crooked nose, 
Nor cure the worst kind of corns on the toes. 
They'll not help a man much, that's just going to sneeze. 
Nor bring back your hat, blown away by the breeze ; 
Nor fatten lean horses, witll0^^t hay or corn ; 
Nor find a good husband for a maiden forlorn. 
I don't recommend them as pleasant to eat ; 
To flavor your salad, or season your meat. 
Now after this pair commendation to you ; 
Just try them, and you'll soon know what they will do, 



Testium Sat Est. 

If you oijen your mouth and put one or two in, 

I'm sure that they'll fail not your favor to win. 

Or ask of the folks who have taken the same — 

They all of them give them a very good name. 

After taking these Pills, as you'll find yourself better, 

You'll no doubt feel inclined just to write a short letter, 

In terms complimentary, anxious to thank 

Yaphan k, 



Doctor Holden, who recently lived at Yaphank, 
Where for over twenty years his shingle desplayed. 



After, which he, 
And for many 
Although over 
In the village 
He hopes 
In mind and 




his residence made, 
years more 
four score, 
of Holbrook, 
to be found 
in body, 



Hale Hearty and Sound. 



Lines Writte7i in a Lady's Album. 



Lines Written in a Lady's Album. 

YOUE frank request that I my skill should try, 
Though to the title " Bard " I lay no claim, 
Yet with the greatest pleasure I comply, 
And, therefore, in this book inscribe my name. 

This, as all earthly objects must decay. 
Like mimic heroes in a short lived play. 

In Heavens bright portal reigns eternal light, 
There dwells perfection clad in vestments bright. 

Light without shadow, (here a thing absurd), 
In penning it I fear I've much incurr'd 

A mystery to man, whose wit is bound. 
The future laws philosophy confound. 

The worm may try to fly, but try in vain ; 

Why, then, should man of bounded thought complain ? 
Man's present duty here, his Maker's will, 

With time and talents granted to f ulflU. 

May, (our eyes failing, as our race is run) 
Our eai's be greeted with the words " well done," 

And, after having left this world of strife. 
Your name be written in the book of life. 



Written for a Boy. 



Written For a Boy to Speak At a School 
Exhibition, 



M 



ETHINKS I bear some whisper round, 
What has this little fellow found, 
That he should on the stage appear 
Before the folks dissembled here. 
But as I'm here I think I'll tell 
What once when younger me befell. 
To see a top spin round appeared so funny, 
I said I'd buy one when I have the money. 
So deep the wish was that I put, the fact is, 
Before the week was out, the wish in practice. 
I wound the string around in such a fumble, 
Spin it I could not but could make it tumble. 
At last outwearied with such sorry i^lay, 
I, quite disheartened, put the top away. 
It happened soon that top time came, 
When spinning tops was all the game. 
There was a boy who was a famous hand, 
Farnum, I called him, from a foreign land. 
Said he, Will, where 's your top, why don't you play ? 
Then I replied I'd put my top away. 
Because it was no use, it would not play. 
Then Farnum quickly answered with a grin, 
I'd like to see the top I could not spin, 

63 



Written for a Boy. 

Run home and fetch it in a minute, 

And then if it should prove that I can't spin it, 

I'll buy your top as sure as my name's Farnum, 

And sell it at a profit to Friend Barnum. 

Then home I ran with a hilarious shout 

Eeached to the shelf and soon the top brought out, 

Then he, with outstretched arms like actor tragic. 

Threw down the top and lo it spun like magic. 

Then he, kind-hearted 

Taught me to wind the string, and then we parted. 

Before I leave the stage I must not fail 

To teU the moral of this little tale, 

Whoever would his top be spinning, 

Must first take care to make a good beginning. 



Autobiography. 



Autobiography. 

THOUGH I was there when I was born, 
I know not if 'twas night or morn, 
Whether the sun was shining bright. 
Or if I came by candlelight, 
And as when I arrived in town, 
I somehow failed to set it down ; 
I only know by what they say, 
It was the month preceding May : 
And by such mode of information. 
The ninth's my natal celebration ; 
This century had just begun. 
So, it was eighteen hundred one ; , 
'Twas five and eighty years ago, 
When I came to this world of woe. 
After a rather lengthy doze, 
Hither I came without my clothes, 
But as I was not unexpected. 
Some drapery had been prospected 
Which (to provide 'gainst short of clothes). 
Was made to reach beyond my toes. 
My first seven years I backward trace 
To Birmingham (my native place) 
Scarce three years of my life had past 
Ere my fond mother breathed her last. 
A father had I (but no father's care), 

65 



Autobiography , 

So, furthermore to speak I must forbear. 

'Tis writ in Latin, ' ' Of the dead 

Nothing but good must e'er be said, " 

But who can see the camel's track 

And not recall his humpy back. 

Four sisters yet remained to rear, 

My childhood's days to guide and cheer. 

Miss Baker was the madame's name, 

(A lady little known to fame) 

Cannonhill House presided o'er, 

Where of young ladies a few score 

Were duly taught from year to year. 

On learning's stream their course to steer. 

With Books and Hymns and meat and bread. 

Their stomachs, souls and brains were fed ; 

I thither with my sisters went. 

On learning, not on pleasure bent ; 

How young I was I cannot tell. 

But I, this fact remembered well. 

How young I was I cannot tell — 

Not clad to stride o'er dirty ditches, 

I'd not yet donned the manly breeches ; 

There I first learned to spell and read, 

And of my morals take good heed. 

And Watt's hymns recite by heart. 

And Murray's grammar did impart; 

By dint of rule the conjugation 

Of verbs throughout their whole mutation, 

Declining nouns, their genders, cases 

And numbers in thek proper places. 



Autobiography. 

Thus my first seven years I spent, 
And then to London City went ; 
^ Christ's Hospital 1 entered then, 
(A school that's sent forth some bright men), 
As Lambe, and Coleridge, and some more, 
To name the whole I'll not my readers bore. 
Though from my name no honor it may claim, 
I hope at least it will reflect no shame, 
Latin and Greek and Hebrew, too, 
Were parsed and construed through and through ; 
But should I say I did decline, 
The last of these you might opine 
I was somewhat inclined to brag. 
Or did attempt to be a wag : 
Now, to express my own idea. 
The last would be to truth most near ; 
Now, hitherto, 'twas the design. 
To fit me for religion's shrine. 
But, this abandoned, I was to ignore 
The Hebrew language, with its laws and lore, 
I therefore left (sufficient this explaining), 
The classical for the commercial training. 
The school I left, when I became fifteen. 
Which thereby caused a shifting of the scene : 
Some months elapsed, a year it may be said. 
Ere I decided how to earn my bread. 
My uncle one day mentioned several arts, 
Perruques and pickles, Tinware, Tubs and Tarts, 
But none of these appeared to suit my mind, 
A surgeon ? Aye. to that I was inclined, 

67 



Autobiogrwphy, 

My mind decided now with full intent, 

To Bath's fair city I my journey bent, 

Where mixch I learnt that I've not yet forgot, 

From Doctor Parry, 'twas my happy lot, 

On several occasions him to meet. 

And I assure you 'twas no little treat ; 

But I was told one morning I must go. 

What ! on some business, Oh, no, no ! no, no ! 

I had not stole a thing, or told a fib, 

Being early taiiglit such doing were forbid. 

But it was clear to London I must hie. 

And not allowed to say alas ! oh lass, good-bye. 

To make the matter clear, it is needed. 

That I should state a fact that had preceded. 

The surgeon's daughter I did much admire, 

I tell you that her name was — not Sophia, 

We, that IS she and I, our loves had plighted. 

Example sad, how youthful hopes are blighted ; 

If, or if not, walls are possessed of ears, 

I'll not decide, 'twas clear the surgeon's fears 

Of an elopement, or some dire disaster. 

Beyond the remedy of pill or plaster. 

Had caused his heart to beat with strange emotion. 

Like the wild billows of the boisterous ocean. 

About the hour that ghosts no longer walk, 

I heard some sobs, mixt with an angry talk ; 

And as I raised to more distinctly hear, 

The surgeon's footsteps came my chamber near, 

He soon entered without knock or bow, 

Which brings me to where I left off just now ; 

68 



AutdbiograpJiy. 

With stamp of foot the silence then he broke, 

And this the import of the words he spoke : 

Wherefor, sir, came you here ? 

Not at the bugle's sound to hunt the deer ; 

Hither came I 

To learn how dext'rously to couch an eye. 

To learn the art of craneum trepanning. 

To diagnose disease by 8ymj)toms scanning. 

The rectus cut to remedy a squint. 

Out of old shirts to manufacture lint, 

These, et cune alus, as I suppose. 

When needed make a Tabecolean nose. 

Yes, sirrah, sirrah, sirrah ! Yes, in short. 

To learn your business, not my daughter court, 

I told her of my love in prose and rhyme. 

If that be sin, I'm guilty of the crime ; 

And here I make this full and frank confession, 

Accuses not my conscience of transgression ; 

But it was clear that he and I must part, 

The sad eflfect of little Cupid's dart ; 

If she was in a cage shut like a bird, 

Or without supper, bed-sent I ne'er heard. 

But I must go (were useless disputation). 

To add one more to London's population. 

He sent as my companion on the way 

(Was it in mockery) a Mr. Gay ? 

My uncle's sister's husband, Mr. B. , 

(His business was exporting o'er the sea, 

Such goods and products of the different arts. 

As best comported to the various marts ;) ' 



Autobiography. 

Thither each morning I my journey took 

My duty there to copy in a book, 

Such business letters as were outward sent, 

(A necessary task) for this intent, 

Of each to write a literal duplicate, 

For at the time of which I now relate. 

The power of steam had not been applied. 

To carry vessels o'er the ocean's tide. 

So 'twas a wise precaution of the trade, 

Lest the first vessel should be long delay'd, 

By stress of weather, or by tempest tost. 

That no unnecessary time be lost. 

After some months at Mr. B 's expended, 

I was to Banking's office recommended, 

My duties there, if you would know, were these- 

Besides what I had done at Mr. B. 's — 

Bills of acceptance to take note and care, 

And to the Banking-Houses to repair 

Some curious incidents I might relate 

Amongst the rest of Fauntleroy's sad fate ; 

A lesson that to those we've fast inclined. 

Which they'd do well to ponder in their mind. 

Bankings ! Whose trade was of such vast extent. 

Their merchandise to every land they sent. 

Wliere old Brittania's ships their flags unfurl'd, 

Throughout the then known habitable world. 

My duties there (if you should ask) were these 

Beside what I had done at Mr. B. 's. 

In Berners street I yet remember well, 

Marsh-Sibbald Tracy, Fauntleroy did dwell, 

70 



Autohiography. 

Their banking house was there, I ought to say, 

If I'm right, on the left side of the way. 

Now, Fauutleroy not heeding law or right. 

Himself involved in a disastrous plight ; 

The fact is this, a forgery he made, 

For which his life the penal forfeit paid. 

Rankings I left when I became of age, 

To fight life's battle on the world's wide stage : 

As so took Adam, so took I a wife. 

To soften the asperities of life ; 

Or, rather, I concluded so to do. 

Certain jrreliminaries I must first go through ; 

Amongst my friends a lady I must find, 

To matrimonial ties not disinclined ; 

And one I sought, of high and noble birth, 

Of strictest honor (gem of priceless worth) ; 

To her I went 

And with due preface stated my intent. 

She blush'd ('tis not unusual I suppose), 

With eyes half closed directed toward her toes. 

Informed me gratin ! ! that the day was fine. 

And begged I'd taste, of course, a glass of wine ; 

'Tis strange how ladies will the question parry 

When you just simply ask, "Will you me marry ? 

Now sometimes 'tis convenient deaf to appear, 

Or to pretend to uo't distinctly hear ; 

By banns, I said, of course, the usual way, 

It but remains for you to name the day. 

She something said about her Pa's consent, 

Which clearly show'd that she did not dissent, 

71 



Autobiography. 

I weut of course again within a week, 
Prepared with school-boy eloquence to speak. 
But when I came 

Within the presence of the courteous Dame ; 
The speech I had prepared I quite forgot, 
So said " Miss Gladstone " shall it be my lot, 
To have jou for my wife, she said, why not. 
So said I promptly as you so decide. 
Without delay then let the knot be tied. 
So to the Kectory I went that day, 
And told the Parson what I had to say. 
He may have said, (I'm not sure that I'm right), 
I'll take good care to tie you strong and tight. 
So on the Sunday following. Dr. Bellamy 
The Congregation asked if friend or enemy 
Objection had their heads these two young folk 
Should i)ut within the matrimonial yoke ; 
As none to tliis proposal made dissent, 
It was decided that they gave consent. 
Twice more (the congregation duly seated), 
The same proposal was again repeated ; 
'Twas granted, by their silence they agreed 
The marriage ceremony should proceed ; 
So on the morrow to the church we went, 
(Tis needless here to say with what intent). 
As two we entered (it was qnickly done), 
By parson's logic, we came out as one. 

Now, as we both had previously agreed 
Across the broad Atlantic to proceed, 

72 



Autobiogra'phy. 

Ill the tirst place a vessel must be fouuJ 

That to the City of New York was bound. 

This was indeed an easy thing to do, 

For of that class, of course, there wei-e not a few. 

Our berth was soon engaged on board the ship, 

And we were ready to begin the trip ; 

Bidding our friends and family "adieu," 

We left the Old World to explore the New. 

The anchor weighed ; then on we gaily go, 

'Twould be at this time thought extremely slow ; 

Our wistful eyes long gazed on Albion's shore, 

It were a hopeless wish to see once more. 

But memory lingering on my native land. 

With hurrying step may throng the busy strand ; 

And fancy bending the submissive will. 

In half a second stand on Primrose Hill, 

(That ancient mound, I hear now leveled down, 

To suit the growing increase of the town,) 

Bow Church, in legendary lore oft named, 

St. Paul's for vastness and for grandeur famed, 

On whose stupendous structure oft I've gazed, ' 

Transport with admiration and amazed. 

Two places more to mention now remain. 

Begging the readers patience to retain. 

First, Tottenham Church, beneath whose walls repose 

The sacred relics whence her spirit rose ; 

She, to my cherish 'd memory ever dear. 

Who from my childhood's eyes oft wiped the tear. 

The other which my memory reveres, 

The birthplace (Hull) of my ancestral sires. 

V3 



Autobiograpny. 

Now, seated ou the deck I will review 
The ship, the captain, passengers and crew. 
One passenger ou board the ship 

Was known as Mistress S., 
The other letters of her name 

Not one of us could guess, 
But she was reticent, retired— 
And why she came ou board the ship, 
Or what the object of her trip 

Not one of us inquired. 
But this the fact. 
Another's act 

Had caused her much commotion. 
It was enough to make her cross, 

And so she crossed the ocean, 
Now Mrs. S. (it may be said). 

Was ou a wedded tour 
To seek a husband she had wed, 

O'er twenty years before. 
Now, Mr. S., 'tis sad to say, 

Enough the heart to vex, 
Could not be deemed a sam2:)le fair 

Of our exalted sex. 
If of this naughty mau you wish 

His wickedness to know, 
The sequel as I now j^roceed 

His faithlessness will show. 
Good Mrs. S. one afternoon 

Went out a friend to see, 
And as she went, remarked that she 

74 



Autobiography. 

Might stay till after tea. 
These ladies talk'd— of course, they did 

It's natural to suppose, 
Of this and that and other things 

Besides the belles and beaux. 
Now, 'tis a proverb very old, 

That waiteth Time for no man ; 
And it is equally as true, 

He waiteth not for woman. 
How Ignorant we mortals are 

About our future fate ! 
So Mrs. S. remained and talked 

Till it was very late. 
When she got home the fire was out, 

And so was Bettie, too. 
And so was Mr. S. ; so that 

Her face looked rather blue. 
Now, how she spent the lonesome night, 

In sobs or vengeful ire ? 
I tell you now before you ask, 

'Twere useless to enquire, 
On pondering, she guessed the cause, 

That she was such a fix in. 
Was the sly and simpering, smirking smiles 

Of the vile and yjcked vixen. 
Five years she stayed and nothing learned 

Of Mr. S., and then returned ; 
If she had found the guilty pair 

Before the man had risen, 
She would have said as Adam did, 
75 



A u tobsogrcq:)hy. 

That the fault wasn't his'n. 
Nothing of note occurred the voyage through. 
About the ship, the passengers or crew, 
When some weeks out, as seated down below 
We heard the jojful sound, "Land ho ! land ho ! 
And up we scampered on the deck, 
But of the land we could not see a speck. 
As on the deck we showed our slender shanks, 
The sailors thus assembled with puerile pranks. 
Said one (who seemed more jovial than the rest), 
Not there, with finger pointing to the west. 
But (as if pregnant with a racy treat) 
Just twenty fathoms down below your feet. 
Being not disposed to prove it by submersiou. 
As fact accepted on his own assertion. 
With unclosed eyes we spent the lengthy night, 
And gladly hailed the dawning of the light. 
In July eighteen hundred twenty-two, 
The city of New York appeared in view, 
And on the thirteenth day 
The ship " Acasta " entered New York Bay. 
We quickly landed and were soon enatalled 
In Greenwich village, as it then was called. 
The yellow fever in short time appeared, 
Which byjmany mightily was feared,. 
No new pursuit^could prudence hope to find 
Till the fell epidemic had declined. 
Now, 'tis easy to sail 
With a prosperous gale. 
But it tries a man's pluck when exj)edient's fail. 

76 



Autohiograpliy. 

I've oft reflected since we lauded here, 

How venturesome Ave were, but had no fear, 

Here in a foreign land, to all unknown, 

And yet we felt we were not quite alone. 

To heaven it is due we never wanted bread, 

Nor yet a shelter to repose our head ; 

In our own country with a slender purse, 

'Tis bad enough, but in a strange land worse. 

Our purse, you'll not doubt it, was getting more light. 

And our prospects were certainly not very bright. 

Then finding myself in so queer a quandary. 

It was evident, quite, I my tactics must vary. 

As, one afternoon, I sorrowing sat, 
'Tween a squirrel at play and a cogitant cat. 
In the fall of the year, on a dark, dismal day. 
It seemed a bird sang this hilarious lay : 
"Come, jump up, young man ; don't be sorry and sad. 
Remember, in years you're scarce more than a lad. 
Like the squirrel, be lively and gay. 
And from Tabby a lesson you may learn, for they say, 
There surely is wisdom in hairs that are gray. " 
So I jumped up erect, viewed the horizon's bound. 
Looked up at the sky, then down on the ground ; 
But from none of these objects any comfort I found. 
So I sat down again,, and in thought most profound. 
It seemed that Dame Fortune leaned over my head, 
And into my ear a few kind whispers said. 
Which I wondered upon till I went to bed. 
In the morning I woke as I'd oft done before, 
And with sob5i' aspect when breakfast was o'er, 
77 



Autohiograpky. 

I slowly and thoughtfully said to my wife, 
I'm revolving a subject concerning cur life. 
Of chemical science a little I've read, 
So by it I'll try to earn butter and bread. 
She said ('tis a fact, though I tell it in verse), 
No change, I believe, could be made for the worse. 
So with basket on arm to the market I went, 
And in mutton tallow a few dollars spent. 
In Alteris Rebus some more I expended. 
And then was prepared for the project intended. 
Those who saw the production declared— not a pin, sir. 
Did it differ from soap that is called soap of Windsor. 
To the druggists I sold it as fast as 'twas made. 
So by my wits end I'd worked up a trade. 
For the orders for soap came in faster and faster. 
With now and then one for Diachylon plaster. 
And Hydroxid Rubex collodion cuticle, 
With one or two more in the line pharmaceutical ; 
This fact I found out no truth could be surer, 
I could never get rich by each day getting poorer. 
I purchased the stock in such quantities small, 
That the profit was oft less than nothing at all, 
But this purpose it served by due persevering. 
In the science that's known by the name financiering, 
How it would have ended it would have been hard to tell 
If after a time I'd had nothing to sell ; 
But a change soon occurred which encouragement gave; 
So to suit the occasion I'll alter my story. 
As to a customer I went, 
My merchandise to sell, 

78 



Autobiography. 

He' welcomed me with how-do, 

I answered him, quite well. 
Said he, "have you determined yet? " 

He'd spoke of it before, 
" 'Tis the best thing that you can do— 

A pharmacutic stoie." 
Said I, ' ' Sir, your advice is good, 

And I esteem it kind ; 
And would, were there no obstacles. 

Exactly suit my mind, 
To hire a store, perhaps 
Might not be very hard to do. 
But for the stock 'twould dollars need, 

And of them not a few." 
Said he, ' ' Go hire a store at once, 

Wait not another day ; 
I'll furnish you with all you need. 

And give you time to pay." 
So off I Avent and hired a store 

Before the day was ended ; 
And then with joyful heart, my steps 

I homeward quickly wended. 
We drank the health of our friend, D. — 

That is, my wife and self — 
What would have been a glass of wine. 

But it was out of delf. 
Few druggists at that time were up to the mark 
With a Latin prescription were oft in the dark. 
So many physicians my patrons became. 
And by it much confidence gave to my name. 



Autuhiograjjhy. 

By this time I credit and cash couhl commiind ; 

So I opened a store in the street that's called Grand, 

Where my name, in gilt letters, could plainly be seen 

On the block that is Cuunon and Lewis between. 

But as my desire on chirurgery centered, 

Profc-sor Steven's office I entered. 

In 1830, the sj^ring of the year, 

On examination proved, I was, quite clear, 

To all the wise councilors, sitting in state. 

To diploma entitled, as shown by its date. 

When sick we freely take to cure our ills, 

Quassia, quintessences, qiiinine and squills. 

But to pursiie the doctor's daily bound 

Affords but little pleasure to the sound. 

So fifty years of such I will pass o'er. 

Hoping in sober prose to meet once more. 

Hoping, although presumptuous, this to say. 

So deep in debt dare I for more to pray ? 

Blessings unnumbered bounteously given, 

My years now reaching nearly eighty-seven. 

Though by the record of historic page. 

Thousands have lived beyond my present age. 

I think 'twould not be easy one to tind 

Blessed with more health of body and of mind. 

But false to judge of future years the length 

By the mere measure of our present strength. 

The towering oak falls by the woodman's blow, 

The slender sapling leaves do stronger grow. 

Full of frail hope we hail the rising day, 

Ere sets the sun death seat is as his prey. 

80 



Autobiography. 

We know that we must die, but wlieu the blow, 
No weak-mind man but God alone can know. 
A few more years, a few more months, 

Perhaps but one short day ; 
May pass before we're called to leave 

This tenement of clay. 

Be this, O Lord ! my daily prayer. 

Before my night's repose ; 
In mercy. Thou ! my sins remit, 

And pardon all my foes. 



Lines Written in an Album. 



Lines Written by the Author in a Lady's 
Album. 

I NEED not attemijt (for iu vtiiii should I try) 
With sentiments worthy this page to siij^ply ; 
With Webster in hand, aud my spelUng-book, too, 
I'll sit myself down aud try what I can do : 
My subject I'll choose, now what shall it be. 
The wonders of Heaven, the Earth, or the Sea. 
The deeds of the warrior of ^corld renowned glory, 
The stage'stricken hero, the Whig or the Tory ? 
The Molochs of trade who for gold sell their health, 
Or the Hermit contented (tho' scant be his wealth). 
The paugs of the Martyrs who suffered for good, 
And proved themselves faithful by shedding their blood ? 
These themes have been all by wise sages told o'er. 
So tho' I might try I could add nothiug more ; 
But to prove myself willing, I thought I'd begin, 
Tho' I freely confess that I'm quite " taken in ; " 
But how to get out is now what I desire, 
For the muses refuse me with aid to inspire ; 
I've courted them ardently, yet are they mate, 
They're determined to turn a deaf ear to my suit. 
But stop, if you count them, you'll find the lines twenty, 
And (such as they are) you will say " that is plenty ; " 

82 



Lines Written in an Album. 

So to be not abrupt, I must set about ending, 
For I think I bad best, as I find I'm not mending. 
Now I'll bid you farewell, with best wishes for health, 
And worldly prosperity, falsely called wealth ; 
And the treasures which wear, without canker or rust, 
That enrich when our body's consigned to the dust. 



On Thoughtlessness. 

HOW many dear friendships are riven and broken. 
By a word of unkindness unthoughtf uUy spoken ; 
As by arrow envenomed on its errand of death. 
The warm heart of a friend may be chilled by the breath, 
Lips frequent Avould sigh, or, alas ! (Interjection) 
Be uttered, or breathed by a little reflection. 



AS I undertake to present to the world 
Something new, it is proper my flag be unfurled. 
For some would-be critics there are in the land. 
Who censure the most what they least understand. 
My counsel to such, this advice as a friend : 
To never condemn till you first comprehend. 
Above (ill, if you wish -as a wise man to rank. 
Enquire not, Can any good come from Yaphank ? 
— English (h'ammar Simplified (now in press, by the 
author). 



Poem on a Railroad Accident. 



Poem on the Occasion of the Long 

Island Railroad Accident in April, 

Several Years Ago. 

DEATH ! where can we bide from thy merciless 
shaft? 

Can we flee to some sheltering tower, 
Where on the broad earth is security when 

Thou com'st in the pride of thy power ? 
The high-born, the valiant, the learned, the great, 

The proud with life's glory elate ; 
With the lowly, the base, the degenerate of earth, 

In common thy summons await. 
Thou dost thine insatiable conquest proclaim, 

As lay side by side slayer and slain ; 
In the vigor of youth by thy sickle mow'd down, 

In their flush, on the crimson'd plain. 
Thou invadest the mart where traflSckers meet. 

Where wassailers in reveling dwell ; 
Where a friend is returning a lov'd friend to greet, 

And the anchorite's lonesome cell. 

Then cease, mortal, cease, thy mad career cease ! 

To Heaven address thy prayer ; 
The conflicts and sorrows of life pass'd o'er, 

Thou'lt secure an inheritance there. 

84 



Poem on a Railroad Accident. 

How oft is commingled with music of miitli 

The knell of the funeral dirge ; 
How frequput monitions of warning note 

By the wreck on the foaming surge. 
But when as but jester the proud mouarcli >ti.)o I, 

And so near us he levell'd his bow ; 
Our hearts (as our eyes with such earnest read o'er 

The piteous recital of woe), 
Felt sad, altho' none 'mongst the names we scanu'd o'er 

Were kind cousin, fond brother or friend, 
There were those gladly waiting in full hopes to greet 

With joy at their journey's end. 
Friends who were bound by the sweetest cords 

That Heaven to earth has given ; 
Tho' sever'd with sorrow no more here to meet. 

May again l)e united in Heaven. 

Then cease, mortal, etc. 



Sad mourners ! we wail your heart-rending woe, 

And may God in his merciful power 
Give you patience and faith to submissively bow 

To the clouds that so heavily low'r. 
May grace be imparted your trials to bear, 

The smart of affliction t' endure ; 
Eeposing in confidence, patience and love 

On the Rock that is steadfast and sure ; 
That a home better far than this world can provid) 

May be ours in the Eegions of Bliss ; 

85 



Poem on a Railroad Accident. 

Having each of us learnt by this shock of the hour, 

Our lease how uncertain on this. 
May we meet with composure the message that calls 

Us away from earth's perishing joys ; 
And with ready compliance the summons obey, 

In the hope of Eternity's prize. 

Then cease, mortal, etc. 



Duty True Pleasure. 

LIFE may be likened to a cup, 
That holds a certain measure, 
And if with care you fill it up. 

You have not room for pleasure. 
But what is Pleasure ? — let me ask 

(A requisite rogation). 
True Pleasure, then, is duty's task 

Performed with exultation. 
At Duty's call, as soon as heard. 

With promptitude enacted ; 
By no false reasoning deferred. 

Or questioning protracted. 



H 



0)1 Hope. 



On Hope. 

OPE'S tbey say, 
A flatterer gay, 
And life's a noisy bubble ; 
Joy, they say, 
Will wear away 
Aud leave us naught but trouble. 

But wait a while 

And let us smile 
To hear folks talk so queer ly. 

For what is life ? 

'Tis naught but strife 
For which we pay too dearly. 

For hope's in truth, 

The lamp of youth, 
Though true that some have stranded, 

Yet, 'tis averred. 

That single word 
As many safely lauded. 

When manhood's cares 

And worldly snares 
May set the heart to aching. 

Oh, then with hope 

What else can cope 
To keep the heart from breaking. 

86 



OnHope. 

Oh, theu let hope 
Its fullest scope 

Enjoy while here we wander, 
And may its light 
Shine ever bright 

To land us safely yonder. 



Rebus. 

Y first sounds like something thau an apple more 
yound, 

Of which in large cities great numbers abound ; 
My next, a man's face sometimes looks in the'glass, 
But it not so appears when he's courting a lass ; 
My third is possessed by man, woman and child, 
By civilized nations and savages wild ; 
My whole is what folks are said sometimes to go on, 
But 'tis not a small pond a boat you could row on. 
A nswer. — Pil-grim-age. 



M 



Errat 



a. 



For "when" read "where" 
For "audist" read "audits" 
For "obvious" read "oblivious" 
For "towards roomattic" read ' tow'rds 
the roomattic " 
(}9 12 For "Tabecoleao read "Talicotian." 



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